SkyTrain
by Mastermann
Summary: "The steady flow of flashing colors and shapes that lay beyond were much more fit to keep Arthur's brain alert - well, for awhile at least. It was effective until a new subject came into light, one that continued to steal glances at him from across the aisle."
1. Chapter 1

The whoosh of the wind, a long drawn out squeak, and then the sounds of sliding doors opening: these are the first things that greet Arthur prior to his entry on the SkyTrain.

He peered in as the doors were pushed apart. The train was nearly empty. A few people sitting on the plain blue seats, and, from the looks of it, they all felt just as shitty as he did. There were a few older men who obviously were upset with the whole scenario and wanted so desperately to get off this train, a cute couple in their late fifties who was more than a bit tipsy, and what appeared to be a large stuffed giraffe sitting in one of the corner seats.

This was where Arthur found himself at three that Sunday morning.

Calves burning, Arthur pushed himself up onto the platform of the train, his five buddies directly in front of him. He huffed a bit before sitting, the tension in his legs and feet quickly dissipating. It had been a long night. He couldn't ever remember having a concert quite that wild.

Flashes of events that had taken place that night whirred through his mind: drinks, sweat, dancing, bright lights, loud music, and even louder screaming.

The vibrant thoughts faded, and he suddenly became aware of how quiet and bland this train really was.

None of them spoke. Not even the stupid Dane who has issues shutting his mouth for a period spanning longer than two seconds. Needless to say, they were all burned out and had no intentions of doing much else but breathing and attempting to keep their heavy eyelids up.

Not that Arthur was successful in his efforts to keep them open.

No, twice over he found himself losing to the battle against sleep. It was only then that he decided he needed to stop staring at the toes of his boots and focus them on the ever changing backdrop of the skyline just out the window. The steady flow of flashing colors and shapes that lay beyond were much more fit to keep his brain alert - well, for awhile at least. It was effective until a new subject came into light, one that continued to steal glances at him from across the aisle.

It was a curious thing to see.

Blue eyes darted back to his lap at the first sight that Arthur was eyeing him back. Arthur chuckled internally at this, the man was trying so hard to be subtle about his quick glances.

Arthur took a moment to examine him from across the aisle while he pretended that nothing had occurred between the two.

The stranger's long blond hair was tied up in an oh-so-neat ponytail that put Arthur's raggedy mop of hair to shame. It swayed slightly with the turnings of the train, and the way it shone in the trashy lighting of the train was nothing short of mesmerizing. Arthur would have compared it to spun gold, but that was a little too cliché for his tastes. Perhaps straw? Or did that insinuate that it was coarse and twine like? He wasn't sure and, to be frank, it didn't really matter.

The real attention catcher, however, was this man's clothing. They were clearly designer and too damn nice for someone on the SkyTrain at such a godforsaken time.

Not that Arthur could stay dumbfounded with him for long.

He was just like any other person you'd might see stuck on this train at such an hour; tired, confused, and maybe a tad insane. Despite it all, he still held that certain air of elegance. Arthur wasn't sure if it was the way he held himself or his facial expression or the fancy clothes he wore. All he knew was that it was there.

Though, he had to admit, Arthur was a bit lost as to why the other would bother looking him over.

The only thing he even mildly resembled right now was a wreck. The sweat that was dripping down his face had probably ruined his cheap eyeliner, and he knew for certain that he and the five others surrounding him reeked of booze, sweat, and a hundred or so other people.

Oh yes, he was definitely a sight to see.

Looking over again at the man, he noted that he had slight stubble growing on his chin and the fact that his pants nicely hugged his-

For God's sake, Arthur. Keep it together. You don't even know the poor bloke's name.

Not that he listened to his own advice. No, he kept looking and rightfully got what he deserved. The other, seated opposite of him, finally threw another glance in his direction. Neither one expected the other to lock eyes, but there they were doing exactly that. Funniest thing about it was that the Brit couldn't force his eyes to move back to his boots or the window or anything else on that damned train. Just like the dumbass he was, he continued to look into those cornflower blue eyes with no signs of stopping.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the blond haired stranger through him a smile and a quick wink.

Arthur huffed before allowing a small smirk to play on his face. That was all he needed to pick this man apart. Perfect hair, designer clothes, and a great deal of confidence to call upon. He was definitely the sort of person that has men and women alike fawning over him; the sort of person that's never faced rejection.

Yes, the exact sort of person Arthur believed he wanted no affiliation with until this very moment.

He moved his gaze back down to the ground. Shifting slightly, he realized again exactly what he was wearing. His black skinny jeans were littered with holes and his shirt was no better off. It had been ripped and stained considerably over the hours he'd been crammed in at the concert. Over it, he bore his only leather jacket.

Arthur licked at the cold metal that cut in at his lips, his sweaty hair sticking to his cheeks. Licking at the inside of his piercing had always been a nervous habit, but he couldn't exactly figure out why now of all times he felt compelled to do so.

The Brit threw yet another glance at the man. Fuck. Why was he so intrigued with him? He hadn't even spoken a word to him, and yet there were already thoughts of other, more intimate situations involving this conveniently attractive stranger. He scoffed at his own thoughts. Not that he was given time to dwell too hard on them; his train of thought was thrown off its tracks when Lukas' sharp voice sliced through the otherwise silent room.

"We get off two stops from here and you all better be awake when we arrive. " He stopped to poke at the Dane, who was half asleep on his shoulder.

"Including you, Matthias. I'm not fucking carrying anyone off this train."

Arthur nodded silently. Thank God. He would be able to brush off this entire situation. Never again think about that annoyingly gorgeous man, and the only thing he would have to do is step off this train.

His ego wouldn't let him know, but he was secretly a bit disheartened at the lost opportunity.

His thoughts went quiet, now instead thinking about the warm, cozy bed that would await him once he got back home to his small apartment. It was closer with every passing minute, and how he could not wait to be there.

The train jolted to a stop again causing Arthur to lean into Alfred who was seated right next to him. He mumbled a quick apology to the American before straightening back up and numbing his brain once again.

The minutes whirred passed and he passively watched as the man across the aisle fumbled a bit with his belongings before taking them off his lap.

Overhead the speakers went off announcing their stop was up soon.

"Next stop: Holdom Station."

As if triggered by that very announcement, the blond stranger curtly stood up from his seat and stood directly in front of Arthur. His hand jolted up to the metal bar below for stability and in the same instance his mouth began to move.

"Could I perchance ask you, the captivating man you are, for your number? It's not everyday I happen upon Canada's Next Top Model while making the rounds on public transportation, and I was hoping to make the best out of an unlikely situation"

The first thing that clicked in Arthur's mind was how this man's accent was a dripping French one. Though, he hadn't the time to think about it as his brain was sent into overdrive with the question. It was so very blunt yet so very suave.

At Arthur's silence Li Xiao stood up and was clearly ready to tell the man to back down and deal with him in a more violent fashion if necessary. He rapidly gestured for his neighbor to be seated, as there was no need for violence. The actions of this man may have been a tad peculiar, but he was well prepared to take care of the issue on his own.

Except he wasn't.

This man was the most intriguing and captivating person he had met to date. He seemed to have no boundaries, and even worse, no fear of consequences.

That really couldn't be a fair assumption, though. He was probably stoned or drunk. He took a small whiff of the air. No, that couldn't be it. He smelled of neither substances. Regardless, he probably wasn't in his right mind, and the Brit wasn't about to let his friend beat the living shit out of some poor man on the SkyTrain.

Arthur moved his hand to one of his small pockets. He carried very few things with him to concerts: A bit of cash, his mobile, and, as always, a Sharpie. He knew, it sounded a bit outlandish, but it had its uses. Think about it: Labeling drinks, curt reminders that need to be scrawled across one's arm, signatures from band members (though he had no such luck tonight), and really anything else you can dream up.

Sharpie now in hand, the Brit grabbed this presumable Frenchman's arm and yanked it down closer to his face. The sleeve had to be rolled up, but after that he was able to scribble out his phone number in dark ink with a quick "- Arthur K." following it. The sleeve was tugged down again, and the Englishman quickly pushed the stranger away. He was able to relax and moments later the train came to a halt. Their stop.

None of his friends spoke as they filed off the train. Stepping off the train, Arthur threw one quick glance back at the man who was still standing in the middle of the aisle. The only change in position was the way he cradled his arm in a semi-dazed state - very much out of his element. He smiled at the Frenchman, and then stepped off the train with the rest of his buddies as the door shut behind him.

They walked up the steps as silently as they had left the train. However, silence never lasted long with Matthias around.

"Nice going Art! I can't believe you gave that guy the slip with the fake number, that's what you did? Right?" the Dane babbled like the idiot he was.

"Yes," he lied, "That's exactly what I did."

You fucked up, Arthur. His brain chided.

I know.


	2. Chapter 2

Realistically, Arthur knows this will likely go nowhere fast, but he also can't help himself.

The stranger from a week or so ago, who he now knew to be Francis, had requested another meeting - a first date.

The Brit was a little skeptical; he had only met this man once under rather peculiar circumstances.

All the same he was excited. It had been so long since anyone had taken interest in him, and it had been even longer since he went on anything that could be considered a date. So there he was, dressed in slacks and a nice button up waiting for the train to drop him off halfway across town so he could spend an hour chatting up Francis in the corner of a Tim Horton's.

Probably not the most romantic first date, but this was more about getting to know the other and less about being romantic. As of now, all he knew of Francis was his name, that he had come to Vancouver from France, and that he was twenty six years old - three years older than Arthur. It wasn't all that much to go on, but it was all he needed to be excited.

And a little nervous. He really hoped that Francis did like him and wasn't fooled by his appearance on the train. As much as he loved to be his little punk self, that wasn't who he was on a day to day basis. It was only one facet of his personality, and he hoped that this second, more down to Earth facet was just as pleasing as the other.

He fiddled with his brown messenger bag at his side. In it he could feel his papers and books tossing around. Under most circumstances he wouldn't have brought it with him, but after this he had class and then after class he had to head to the office. They needed him to turn in his hand edited copies and then receive his new articles to edit. It could be worse, he supposed. His boss was kind enough to allow him to work from home most of the time so that he could still attend university. Somehow, despite all of the leeway they gave him, he made a decent sum of money.

In all reality, he was beyond lucky. Not all employers were as kind.

Arthur peered up at the LED sign and read it; he had two more stops left before his. He moved his hand off his bag and up to his hair, hopeful that no one else on the train was judging him too harshly. He smoothed out his hair one last time, praying that by doing so he might prevent him from excessively smoothing while Francis was around. Then he shifted down to his clothes. His white button up was clean, smooth, and soft. Just the way he wanted it. His grey slacks were just as crisp and pristine.

Fantastic. Everything was in order.

His tongue absent-mindedly went up to where his lip piercing usually was, only to find that it was missing. Stupid nervous habit, always giving away his true feelings no matter how hard he tried to suppress them.

He took a deep breath, relaxed, and gave himself a short pep talk.

 _You're going to be fine. You look great and the worst that can happen is you and Francis part ways never to see the other again._

For once in his life his reasoning resonated with him and he calmed down. All would be well. Francis had been nothing but kind so far, and Arthur couldn't imagine that changing at the drop of a hat.

The train slowed, allowing passengers to quickly depart and head off to do whatever they needed in the busy city center. Arthur watched them and smiled as he watched a young mother herd her two excited toddlers off.

Then, as quickly as it had come to a stop, the doors slid shut and they were off again.

Francis had explained to him late last night that he would wait for him outside the station and from the station they would walk to their destination. The Brit briefly pondered about what they would talk about on their date, hoping that he wouldn't have to carry the brunt of the conversation. Just in case, though, he already had some questions ready: Why had he moved to Canada? Why Vancouver, specifically? What did he do for a living? Was he still in school? Did he have any siblings? What were his hobbies?

Okay. Fine. Maybe they were a little generic, but Arthur was genuinely interested, so hopefully that would compensate for their banality.

Again, the train came to a screeching stop. He stood up, hooked his messenger bag over his shoulder, and made his way off the train quietly. Warm air hit him as he did so. He couldn't remember it ever being so warm in October, though it was still early. Perhaps the air would chill as the month progressed.

In the station more busy people were hustling to and fro, all attempting to get somewhere or another. All except for one particular blond mop of hair standing off to the side.

The Brit strode over to where Francis was standing. The Frenchman finally identified him in the crowd. He smiled and met halfway.

"I'm glad you made it! I was starting to get worried that you had run off in some other direction and I had missed you."

"Of course, I had no intentions of sneaking right past you."

They shared a quick laugh in the small station before opting to get out of the rather stuffy location. Past the platforms, the city was still abuzz with chatter, though much quieter and less condensed than the SkyTrain's station.

No words were exchanged in this time, they simply reveled in each other's company and watched with endearment as people of all ages, shapes, and sizes busied themselves. The weather was calm and, a truly rare occurrence, sunny. They couldn't have asked for much more from Vancouver's weather.

"Where are you from?"

Arthur was caught off guard by the quick question, and merely stared at Francis with his mouth gaping open as his brain's gears turned, desperately trying to gauge what had just been said. Thankfully, Francis figured as much and elaborated, "Your accent sounds British, I figured. Though I am far from an expert, so I thought it would be far better to ask than assume."

"Oh yes," Arthur murmured, "I'm British. My family moved over here when I was fifteen for work, so I've been here for quite some time. I guess the accent just stuck."

There was no guessing about it. He had tried very desperately to drop it for some time, as it caused him many problems in high school. It makes anyone an easy target of harassment for the simple reason that it is different.

"You're from France, right? When did you come here to Canada?"

They turned the corner to where the Tim Horton's was. Francis opened the door before responding, "Yes, I'm French and I've been here for three years. Though, the first two I lived in Montreal as I have family there."

Arthur nodded curtly and stepped inside, the door shutting as Francis followed after him, "I suppose that makes sense. We may have more in common than I originally thought."

Francis chuckled, "Yes, I think you might be right."

At the counter there was no line. The whole place was rather empty for so early in the morning, Arthur noted. They both ordered, nothing too large for himself, merely a coffee, and sat down at the far end of the room.

His cardboard cup was warm around his hands, and little bouts of steam puffed up from out of the cup. It was quite charming. Across from the Brit, Francis had set down his coffee and began to speak again, "I noticed that your rather elaborate garb from our former meeting is nowhere to be seen. Don't tell me that the whole bad boy, punk look you were going for was just a façade."

If it weren't for his tone of voice and joking demeanor, Arthur might have thought he was being serious.

"You don't know everything about me."

He punctuated his statement by sipping from his hot coffee and staring the Frenchman straight in those unbelievably blue eyes of his.

Francis smirked and did the same.

Maybe this would go better than expected.


	3. Chapter 3

"Arthur! What the hell is this?"

The Brit's head shot up at the mention of his name and then, just as quickly as it had come up, it shot down.

Fuck. I forgot to tell them, didn't I?

He coyly peered back up to the angry Danes face. He knew that he was about to get a stern yelling at in the middle of public transportation. Though, that wasn't what was bothering him. He'd been yelled at by Matthias multiple times. No, he feared Francis' reaction a whole hell of a lot more.

To Arthur's advantage, it took everyone else in his group a moment to understand what Matthias was going on about. He had a few moments to prepare himself for the onslaught of questions on both ends.

"I can't believe you would invite this asshole without even letting us know! Like, what the fuck, Arthur?"

"Matthias, calm down and please let me explain."

"Explain to me why you invited a complete stranger to go to a concert with us. More importantly, explain why you didn't so much as let us know!"

At this point the whole train car was looking warily at them; most of them were probably silently praying that this didn't end in a full out brawl.

"He's not a complete stranger." Arthur took a deep breath - this was the hard part, "We've been dating for a little under three months now."

Matthias didn't speak. He just stood there dumbfounded in silence until Alfred's voice boomed in.

"You had a boyfriend and you didn't tell us!"

He really should have explained this sooner. It was a tad more embarrassing than he had anticipated, especially in front of a room full of strangers. Orienting himself towards Francis, Arthur made quick work of the explanation. He just hoped that Francis wouldn't be made upset by his mistake.

"Please don't be angry, Francis. It's not that I don't love you. I swear on every bag of Earl Grey in my pantry that I had no malintent."

"Don't worry about it - I still haven't told Toni and Gill about it yet. I can only imagine the pair reacting with a huge dose of irritation and annoyance followed by even more lewdness... Definitely not looking forward to that."

The Brit could rest easy, at least until they confronted Francis' friends. Arthur dreaded the day when the two groups ultimately met - surely the only thing to come out of it would be loud screaming matches and an endless barrage of questions from both parties. But, until then, he could remain at ease. The childish ramblings of his friends would be nothing after getting something of that magnitude off his chest.

"Ok, but still! Why didn't you tell us? That's, like, super important!"

Oh - that's right - annoying American on the left was still demanding answers.

"I just didn't ever really find the right moment. I figured it would come up naturally with time and, well, it didn't."

He shrugged his shoulders. Francis stepped through the two angered men and sat down in the seat adjacent to Arthur's. Li Xiao gave him a calm smile. The asian man might be able to fool the other with a warm smile, but Arthur knew that he would get a whole separate scolding later in private from Li. He would never explode in public like the other two blonds. He was more of an aggressive texter.

Matthias and Alfred stood in silence momentarily as they scrutinized Arthur's new boyfriend, looking him up and down. The Brit was now grateful that he had taken some time out to arrange an outfit that would help Francis fit in with the group. It could potentially ease the transition for them. Especially since Francis was, in a way, the anti-them. Francis was fancy and a tad pompous; Arthur had no doubt that they would have thought him mad if their first meeting with the Frenchman was in a conventional setting. Hopefully, this would give them time to become accustomed.

Francis wasn't particularly fond of the outfit. According to him, such a thing would never work as well on himself as it would on Arthur. He enjoyed the compliment, but he still dearly believed that Francis pulled the outfit off quite well.

Though, It had been a struggle to find an outfit he would actually don.

He absolutely refused to wear anything with holes or tears, god forbid temporarily dyeing the tips of his hair.

In spite of the struggle, Arthur did well for the Frenchman. Well fitted black jeans and a loose white shirt were the staple of the outfit. It was framed with a black jacket that was probably a size too large for the man and a choker Arthur had allowed him to borrow. A well worn pair of fingerless leather gloves adorned his hands.

"Wait a minute."

Matthias' brain was turning gears for once.

"This is the same guy from the last concert! The asshole that asked for your number on the train!"

Arthur would have laughed at how long it took the poor Dane to come to that conclusion, but he was in the middle of getting scolding. Doing that might be considered rude.

Lucky enough for Arthur, Francis swooped in to save him,

"I'm right here you know."

Francis took a moment to reposition himself in the direction of the American and the Dane.

"I also have a name - Francis. Feel free to call me by that in place of 'asshole'. It's much prefered."

His gloved hand gestured for the two sit back down in their seats and, ideally, calm down so that the other poor passengers could enjoy the rest of their ride in peace. They stared at Francis disbelieving of his actions, but ultimately submitted to the newcomer.

"Alfred, Matthias," Francis addressed them with his smooth tone, " I'm dreadfully sorry that Arthur failed to inform you that we were dating. Though, it's really not fair of you to berate him over this."

I'm glad he is here to take my side on the issue. It's nice having someone around for support.

"I mean, put it into perspective. He'd die old and alone without me."

Nevermind.

"You ought to be thanking me, really. What would you do with poor Arthur otherwise? He'd be like a little lost puppy, constantly trailing after you for the rest of his lonely, sad, miserable life."

Li Xiao snickered under his breath. Arthur wasn't amused, and he was more than willing to display his displeasure,

"What do you mean by that? There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, else you wouldn't even be here!"

His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, though his anger wasn't sincere. He knew from the tone of his voice that Francis was just toying with him for effect. It might have even been charming if he were in his proper mindset.

"It's your eyebrows, dear. They're horribly ugly and would probably scare the local children better than any monster or ghost could. If by some miracle they can look past that, your temper will surely send them scurrying away like a mouse in fear. Not everyone appreciates such a colourful vocabulary, you know."

By then, it wasn't just his crew - Matthias, Alfred, and Li Xiao - but the whole train car that was desperately trying to hold their laughs down from his partner's insults. There was only one way for Arthur to settle this: a rebuttal. It had to be masterfully put together, which is exactly why he stuttered his way through the whole thing.

"Sure, but - I mean - at least I don't have t-to call you periodically throughout the day because I - uhhhh - need assistance on silly things like searching your email and updating Windows…?"

Stellar way to finish it, Arthur. Nothing throws off an opponent and showcases your confidence like using an uptalk*.

"That was a horrible counter, Arthur. I love you to pieces, but we really need to work on that."

Francis leaned over to the man seated next to him. His golden blond locks shifted before resting on Arthur's shoulder as he hovered next to his ear.

"It's alright though," A whisper of a voice danced across his ear, "I love you all the same."

A chaste peck on the cheek was delivered before Francis' face was withdrawn and a goofy smile was plastered across it.

The train car was quiet again save for the ever present thrumming of the turning wheels below them. The spectators had either gone back to their own monotonous lives or were watching the new couple in awe. It wasn't everyday that you saw a real life rom-com.

Which is exactly why Alfred, the perfectly imperfect comic relief decided that now of all times was when he needed to ruin the moment with his unwarranted opinions,

"You know, y'all two are a riot."

That's all the evidence Arthur needed. His life was, with one-hundred percent certainty, a rom-com.

* * *

Additional Notes

An uptalk is when someone uses the rising intonation associated with questions at the end of an indicative statement.

* * *

Author's Notes

Hello, reader. A few things to say. First off, sorry I'm a slow updater. School for me is quite demanding so I don't tend to have a lot of time to write, even during holidays. Secondly, this was originally going to be a one-shot. I'm sure that at times it feels a little shoehorned and like I have no idea what I want to do with the story (it's cause I don't). Regardless, I truly appreciate all of the support! If you notice anything wrong grammatically, please feel free to let me know so I can fix it. Also feel free to leave feedback, positive or negative. I would love to hear about it so I can better my writing in the future. Again, thank you for the support!


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